It Was For You
by Not-So-Wicked Witch
Summary: Roger realizes that he has feelings for Mark, but what should he do about them? Rated 'M' for later chapters strong language and adult themes. PostRENT. My first slash fic.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I hope you guys will like this, it's my first try at slash! Well, the slash won't come around for a little while…but you get the point.

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, Roger, Mark, or any other characters.

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"I'm sorry sir," the doctor said, "We did everything we could. Ms. Marquez did not make it."

The words echoed hollowly in Roger's brain. _'Did not make it.'_ Mimi was dead. It was just last night that Maureen and Joanne had found her, freezing to death, in the park. And Roger had brought her back, or so he had thought.

"Why the hell didn't she make it?" Roger asked angrily, "Why did you let her die?" he was shouting.

"Ms. Marquez's immune sys-"

"Mimi," Roger interrupted.

"Her immune system was extremely compromised. She had a serious case of hypothermia from living outdoors. There was not much we could do."

Roger kicked the chair he was standing next to. The clatter resounded in the almost empty waiting room. A young man with spiky blond hair and glasses ran into the room. Mark had been getting coffee when he heard the noise. He knew it was Roger.

"Rog, what happened?" he asked, up righting the chair, then convincing his best friend and roommate to sit.

"Mimi's dead," Roger said numbly.

"Oh my God…"

The doctor took this moment to get away from the man he believed was about to kill him.

Tears started to brim in Roger's eyes; he blinked them away. He had to be strong. Strong for Mark.

Without another word, the two friends left the hospital. They were going to have to tell Benny. Of course, Collins needed to know as well. Maureen and Joanne had been there. They had wanted to visit Mimi, just to see how she was doing. Now, they were on the third floor with a therapist.

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Roger and mark walked to the subway station in silence. They boarded a train and waited. A sudden lurch signaled the ride's start. As the lights flickered, Roger noted there was hardly anyone else riding.

'_Well, it is getting close to midnight,'_ he mused.

A short while later, the train pulled into the Alphabet City station.

Roger still didn't say a word as they walked back to the apartment complex that was home. Mark would give him worried looks, but Roger shook his head as if to say, "Don't worry about me." Mark still worried all the same.

When the reached the loft, Mark unlocked the door and went inside. Roger lingered for a moment, staring down the stairwell. Then, he followed Mark, closing the door.

"We should call Benny," Roger said.

"It's 12 at ni-" Mark tried to protest.

"He'd want to know."

Roger picked the phone and dialed Benny's number.

"Hello?" Benny sounded as if he'd been asleep.

"Benny, it's Roger."

"Man, do you have any idea what time it is?"

"It's about Mimi," he said gravely.

"Is she alright?" Benny asked.

"No. Mimi…died. About an hour ago."

There was a long silence. Benny finally spoke, "I'll cover the funeral."

Roger knew the conversation was over. He hung up the phone and sat on the couch.

"I'm going to bed," Mark murmured, "Try to get some sleep."

Roger nodded, knowing full well he wouldn't.

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A/N: Yes, I did kill Mimi off in the first three sentences. Don't hate me for it, she just would've been in the way. Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So yes, Benny is paying for the funeral…

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, Roger, Mark, or any other characters. But I did create Tess.

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True to his prediction, Roger was still awake about an hour later. He picked up his guitar, not the old one. He'd sold that a couple months ago to buy a car and drive to Santa Fe. The guitar was newer, but not electric. Roger had always preferred electric guitars, but they were too damn expensive.

He plucked on the strings quietly, playing _Musetta's Waltz._ That song always seemed to be in his head.

Roger heard a click to his right. He turned; Mark's bedroom door was opening.

"Did I wake you up?" Roger asked.

"Never fell asleep," Mark sat down next to Roger, "How're you holding up?"

Roger sighed, "Not good."

Mark put an arm around Roger's shoulders, surprising the guitarist. They sat like that for a while; neither speaking, Roger didn't play his guitar.

"I know how you feel," Mark said unexpectedly, "Remember Tess?"

Roger nodded. Tess was Mark's girlfriend five years ago. She'd been in a car accident, and she didn't survive.

"If you want to talk about it…" Mark continued, then instantly regretted it. That was the one thing you **never** said to Roger. He would talk when he was ready, and not a moment soon.

Roger moved himself from under Mark's arm.

"I'm going to bed," he stated flatly.

"Night," Mark got up.

The two men walked in opposite directions to their rooms.

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Mark tossed and turned all night in a fitful sleep. He had nightmares about Roger leaving again. Only this time, Roger never came back. Mark was left alone with a broken home, his camera, and a guitar…

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Roger lay awake, boring holes in the ceiling with his gaze. He couldn't close his eyes. Every time he did, his mind filled with images of Mimi. Mimi smiling, Mimi pouting, or Mimi dancing at the club. Roger tried to close his eyes again; he needed to sleep. This time, he saw Mimi lying in the hospital bed, looking pail and fragile. Her eyes were closed. Roger tried to reach for her; she got farther away. He was chasing after Mimi; she was slipping away. Then, she was gone.

"NO!" Roger bolted up in bed.

"I'm losing my mind," he muttered to himself.

Roger flung back the blankets and stood up. His clothes were sticky with sweat. But he didn't change. He figured that it would just be dirtying another set of clothes. Roger sat down on the edge of his bed.

There was a framed photo on the table by his bedside. Roger picked it up. It was a photo of him and Mimi. She was kissing Roger on the cheek, he was laughing.

It was a rare thing for Roger to laugh. As Mimi had gotten weaker, his smiles did too. Now, it was near impossible to see him happy at all.

Roger glanced at a clock. It was almost three in the morning. Despite the time, he knew he needed to get out of the loft. He only grabbed his leather jacket, as he hadn't changed for bed.

Carefully opening his bedroom door, Roger tiptoed across the main living space, afraid to wake Mark. He grabbed a set of keys. Roger didn't know where he was going, but he had to escape the pain.

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A/N: Not much to say…yes, Roger is leaving.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Yes, Roger did leave. Don't hate me, just read and you will see…

Disclaimer: I still don't own RENT, or any of the characters.

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Roger wandered the streets of Alphabet City, searching for a place to drown his sorrow. All types of neon signs tempted him, many of them advertising women. But he didn't feel right going to a club, not so soon after Mimi…Roger couldn't even bring himself to think it.

Realizing he wouldn't find comfort in getting plastered, he started to walk home.

"Hey," a voice said. It was young and female.

Roger turned to see a tastelessly dressed girl. She couldn't have been more than 18, and was obviously a prostitute.

"Looks like you could use some cheering up," she said.

"No thanks," Roger shook his head and walked away.

Turning up his collar against the cold, he took a left onto Avenue A. Soon he was at the front door of the apartments.

Roger took his time going up the stairs, but he rushed past Mimi's floor. He didn't want to see her door. There wouldn't be any light coming out from under it. That would make this too final.

He carefully unlocked and opened his door. It looked as if he hadn't woken Mark. That was good.

'_I hope I can get to my room without making any noise,'_ Roger bumped into a table and knocked it over, "Dammit!" he said out loud.

Mark's door opened.

"Whuss goin' on?" a bleary-eyed Mark asked.

"Nothing," Roger said in his best soothing voice, "I just bumped into a table. Go back to bed Mark."

The filmmaker ignored the instruction and crossed the room. Mark sat down on the couch, "You're not gonna leave again, are ya Rog?"

"No," Roger righted the table, "I'm not going anywhere."

He took a seat next to his best friend.

"I miss Mimi," Mark said, still half asleep.

"So do I," Roger put his arms around the smaller man.

Mark, still slightly unaware of most things, didn't mind. Instead, he started to fall asleep again. Roger noticed this, and gently picked Mark up. He took the filmmaker into his room and laid him down on the bed. It was cold, so Roger pulled the blankets up over Mark's shoulders.

Exhausted, Roger returned to his own room. Almost instantly, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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The sound of his alarm clock woke Mark. He punched around the top of his beside table until he hit the 'off' button. Fumbling around blindly, Mark eventually found his glasses. He managed to drag himself out of bed and into the kitchen.

Since it was freezing cold, the first thing Mark did was start a pot of coffee. He took two chipped mugs from a cabinet, one for him, and one for Roger.

Roger didn't usually wake up until around noon, but Mark always got everything ready.

Hearing a door open, Mark looked up. Roger shuffled out of his bedroom. The lack of sleep showed in the dark bags under his eyes.

"You're up early," Mark commented.

"Left the blinds open," Roger explained.

"Oh, well maybe if you ask nicely," the filmmaker joked, "They'll turn the sun off."

The crack was meant to lighten the mood, but it obviously didn't. Roger pulled a box of cereal from the counter and got the milk out of the fridge.

"Want some?" he asked, going for a bowl.

"Coffee's fine for me," Mark replied.

"Suit yourself," Roger sloppily poured the cereal and milk, and then took a huge bite.

"Don't forget your AZT."

"Right," Roger said sardonically, "Don't know what I'd do without you."

The thing was, he'd meant it.

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A/N: You knew Roger wouldn't leave forever. Right?


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry for being so lazy about updating…I've been kind of busy. Y'know, that whole school thing gets in the way sometimes.

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Instead of finishing his breakfast, Roger dumped the remainder of his cereal down the sink.

"You alright?" Mark asked, always watchful for signs of sickness in his   
HIV-positive friend.

"Just not hungry," Roger downed his AZT with a mouthful of coffee.

"Ok," Mark was not convinced.

Roger watched as his bespectacled roommate got ready to go out and film. Buzzline kept Mark on a tight schedule, even at times like this.

'_Damn the corporate world…'_ he thought.

"I'm going," Mark's voice cut through Roger's ponderings.

"Uh huh," he replied distractedly.

"Collins said you could call him if you need anything."

Mark picked up his camera and left.

"I need you," Roger whispered to the empty room.

It didn't take long for him to grow restless. He couldn't stop thinking about Mark. He'd been such a great friend to Roger, and how was he repaid? Mark paid the rent, did the shopping, and the little housekeeping they bothered with. Roger had developed an addiction, gotten HIV, and left town when things had gotten tough.

He wished he could go back in time. To the night he met April, and turn her down. Sure, he'd had good times with her, but the bad ones outnumbered them.

The phone rang; Roger made no move to answer it.

"SPEEEAAAK."

"Roger, it's Benny. You've gotta be at home, I know you don't go out."

Realizing Benny would keep calling, Roger picked up the phone, "Yeah?"

"I know it's really soon, too soon. But, I need you to clean out Mimi's place, maybe sell what you can."

"Why?"

"My invest- father-in-law wants it empty for new buyers ASAP. I'm sorry man; I tried to talk to him. But he won't cut me any slack."

"I can do it today if you want," Roger didn't like this idea, but he thought it might help him move on.

"Thanks. By the way, Mimi's funeral's Wednesday. There's a small viewing tonight. If you have an outfit picked out, bring it to the funeral home by four."

"I'll be there."

He hung up.

'_Wednesday…that's tomorrow.'_

Shaking his head in disbelief, Roger found his set of keys by the door. The one to Mimi's loft was where it should be.

Roger locked up his place and headed downstairs. Out of habit, he knocked on the door. He almost expected Mimi to answer. Her brown hair would be a mess and she wouldn't be wearing makeup yet. Like Roger, she was a late sleeper. But he ended up feeling like an idiot when there was no response. Roger unlocked the door and went inside.

The quiet inside was eerie. Normally, there would be music playing. Roger flipped on the lights. There was a pile of cardboard boxes in the corner. Benny must've already been told to move Mimi out when she disappeared.

Roger grabbed a box and took it into Mimi's bedroom. He opened the closet and started to fill the box with clothes, each item carefully folder. He remembered they would need an outfit for the funeral.

Mimi's favorite clothes were in the back of the closet. Roger decided on the black dress she'd worn when they had their first kiss. Well, Mimi kissed Roger, and he freaked out.

He laid the dress on the bed, and then finished clearing out the closet.

Next, Roger took a break from going through Mimi's things. He cleaned up the loft, putting the garbage in an under-used trashcan.

Some of the food in the refrigerator had gone bad, and the smell wasn't pretty. He managed to find and light some scented candles.

As he emptied a drawer, something caught Roger's eye. A metallic glint in the morning sun. It was a syringe. He also found several small plastic bags, filled with white powder.

'_But Mimi was in rehab…'_

A sudden urge took hold of Roger. Part of his brain was telling him to get a fix. But the other part was fighting it like hell. He took a bag in his hand, only to throw it into the trashcan.

"I made a promise," he reminded himself.

When April died, Mark had made Roger swear to stay clean. Drugs had given him this disease; they didn't need any more problems. Withdrawal was hell, and Roger certainly didn't want to go through it again. He remembered the first night he had decided to get clean…

_2:35 a.m. – Roger tossed and turned in bed. Even though he was freezing cold, his entire body was drenched in sweat._

"_Hold still," Mark said._

_He laid another blanket on top of the songwriter. This only made Roger too hot. The blanket was removed, but he couldn't cool down. Mark left briefly, and then returned with a wet cloth. He found Roger throwing up in he bucket he'd put next to the bed. He held Roger hair out of his face and rubbed his back, telling him everything would be ok._

_Roger wiped his face and lay down again. He saw the worry written on Mark's face. Impulsively, he grabbed his friend's hand. The gesture surprised Mark._

_A few minutes later and a cold cloth on his forehead later, Roger fell into a restless sleep. He would wake up in 15 minutes and repeat this process…_


	5. Author's Note

Sorry that I'm being so lazy about updating. Things are a little hectic right now. Please bear with me. One of my friends is going through a hard time, and I need to be there for her.

Also, I have this story written in a notebook, which is falling apart. So, I'm transferring it to another notebook. I'm almost done with that, so maybe I can update soon!

Thanks for sticking with me.


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